Hélène Cardona

A House Like a Ship

I live in a house that’s a ship, At times on land, at times on ocean. I will myself into existence, Surrender, invite grace in. I heed the call of the siren. On the phantom ship I don’t know if I’m wave or cloud, Undine or seagull. Whipped by winds, I hang tight to the mast. Few return from the journey. I now wear the memory of nothingness, A piece of white sail wrapped like second skin.